


Fresh Squeezed

by crazprinces09



Category: Twilight (Movies), Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-31 02:30:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21050390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazprinces09/pseuds/crazprinces09
Summary: All Bella wanted was some orange juice for her cake. She left with a lot more...





	Fresh Squeezed

Isabella hesitated outside of the door, wringing her hands. She had never been able to say more to him than the occasional “hey” as they passed by each other in the hallway. But today was the day that she planned to become more than just the neighbor from down the hall—even if she only became the crazy girl who knocked on a stranger’s door at eight in the morning. Bella inhaled and exhaled and quickly before she could lose her nerve, she rapped on the door, regret instantly filling her as she realized the insanity of her decision. 

It was only moments before the door swung open and Bella was suddenly facing a very handsome and very shirtless man who was grinning down at her, although the hint of confusion was apparent on his face. “Uh, you’re 3B, right?”

Isabella’s words were suddenly lost to her. A few moments of awkward silence passed between the two and the man’s grin fell as the tension rose. Isabella coughed and then she finally spat out, “Do you have any orange juice?” She groaned internally. She could not believe that she really walked all the way over here to ask this insanely beautiful man for some fucking orange juice. 

The man opened the door wider to let Isabella in, confusion still etched onto his face. “Come in, I’m sure I can spare a glass.” Isabella stepped into the apartment and wondered why she had even bothered to knock on his door in the first place. She awkwardly stood in the entrance and wringed her hands while 3E—fitting since he referred to her as 3B—went to retrieve the orange juice she apparently so desperately needed. He returned moments later, a carton of orange juice in his hands. 

“There’s only about a pinch of juice left. I hope that’s okay for, uh, whatever you need it for.”

Isabella’s hands shook slightly as she reached out to grab the carton from him. Her other hand rubbed the back of her neck. She was trying to think of anything that could even come close to rectifying this situation. “I’m, uh, baking,” she said. “I’ll bring you some when it’s finished as thank you, I guess, for the juice.” 3E nodded and Isabella began making her way out of the apartment. “Thanks again.”

“No problem,” and then Isabella was left staring at the door once more. She was left to figure out what the heck she was going to bake that involved orange juice. She turned and made her way down the hall back to her apartment. After unlocking it and stepping inside, she let out a huge sigh. She walked into the kitchen and set down the carton of juice. Her computer was on the counter from the last time she had used it so she took a seat at the island and logged on. She quickly pulled up google and searched for recipes that involved orange juice. She managed to find a recipe for orange juice cake but the idea didn’t really appeal to her. She finally settled on making a simple angel food cake and using the orange juice to make a glaze.

It was only after she had finished all her research that it hit her that she lacked skills in the kitchen. Isabella could manage to make a few things like pasta and stir fry so that she didn’t have to eat out every single day but that’s where it ended. When she was younger, she had tried to be the type of girl that could kick up in the kitchen but after several—several—burned dishes, she realized that it just wasn’t for her. But now she had to make a cake and it had to be decent at the very least because otherwise the embarrassment she had suffered this morning would have been for nothing. 

She let out another sigh. Then she sighed again when she realized that she lacked some of the ingredients for this cake. Getting up from the island, she walked down the hallway, past the living room, to her bedroom to grab her bag and her keys so that she could go to the grocery store. As she made her way out to her front door and began to lock up her apartment, she fervently prayed that she didn’t run into 3E because just how stupid would it look if she got caught at the grocery store. She walked over to the elevator and recited in her head the ingredients. When the elevator dinged and slid open, she stepped inside, her attention now focused on her phone. She had a couple of texts from coworkers but she ignored those for the moment. 

Once she reached the ground floor, she made her way through the lobby and made it through the door in time to see 3E climb into his car and hastily speed away. Opting out of using her car because the grocery store wasn’t too far away, she was glad that she had remembered her headphones—they were buried at the bottom of her bag—and soon the soothing sounds of Asobi Seksu were flowing through her ears. Her walk went quickly and when she reached the doors of Publix, she grabbed a basket. It didn’t take long for her to gather the stuff—powdered sugar, cake flour, cream of tartar, vanilla extract, and almond extract. At the last second she decided to pick up a carton of orange juice to replace 3E’s. She was out of the store in under twenty minutes and back in her apartment in the next fifteen. 

Isabella set the groceries down on the counter and then grabbed her laptop so that she could blast a playlist while she baked. Once Pandora was up and running, the today’s hit station at near full volume, she got to work on the cake. She didn’t have a great start. Beating egg whites to stiff peaks was not an easy task. She had run through a carton of eggs before she even got close to whatever in the hell stiff peaks are. After that it was relatively easy. Once the cake was in the oven, she didn’t even allow herself to look at her phone since she had the tendency to get distracted and if she burned it after getting this far, it would be a real shame. 

An hour later, when the cake was out of the oven, inverted and cooling, she decided not to start on the glaze. It was fairly simple and it could wait till later. All she had to do was mix the powdered sugar with the orange juice. Isabella glanced up at the clock; it was now close to noon. She had no idea when 3E would be home or even when would be a suitable time to knock on his door for a second time today. She gently shook the cake out of its pan and onto a plate but then she left everything else as it was. There was no point in setting the cake up now as it would be a few hours until she could give the cake to him. 

Now Isabella had to figure out how to pass the rest of her Sunday. Going back to her phone to read the messages she had from coworkers, she realized that she could probably stand to do a little work. A couple of her coworkers had been working on a project together involving the situations in the Middle East and they wanted to get her opinion on some things. Even though Isabella had yet to reach editor status, she sometimes felt if she was one because of the way her coworkers ran to her for everything. Not that she minded at all but she wished her paycheck reflected all the hard work she put in. She texted them back to send over what they had.

Barely moments later, her phone pinged with emails. As she quickly scanned through the articles, she saw that she had a at least a few hours of work ahead of her. She grabbed a bag of tortilla chips from the pantry and a jar of salsa from the fridge. She poured out a bit of the salsa into a dish and then, stacking everything on her closed laptop, and made her way into her office. 

Hours later, after having been on the phone with each person in the group and reviewing all the documents that had been sent to her, Isabella closed her laptop and actually completely turned off her phone for the day. It was now 5pm and she desperately wished she knew if 3E was home yet. She couldn’t decide on when would be an acceptable time to offer him a piece of the cake. What if she went to knock on his door—cake in hand and smile in place—and he wasn’t even home? Was she to awkwardly return back to her apartment and try again later that night? Or did she just spare herself any further embarrassment and forget about the cake altogether? Thinking this hard about what would probably be a five-minute interaction was starting to give her a headache. She considered taking a quick Sunday nap but realized that a nap this late in the day would only serve to be detrimental later on tonight when she actually needed to sleep. So she opted for mindlessly watching trashy reality television while cleaning up her apartment a bit. 

Isabella started with the kitchen, regretting instantly that she had left the mess for later. The cake batter had hardened in the bowl and the batter that she had splashed over numerous counters had hardened as well. She started with the dishes and was insanely hot and sweaty by the time she scrubbed them completely clean. After she had cleaned off the counter, she finally decided that it was late enough in the day and safe enough to try to bring over a piece of cake.

She took the orange juice out of the fridge, took a mixing bowl out of the cabinet, and set them all on the counter next to the powdered sugar. Next she grabbed a whisk out of the drawer. Pouring her only two ingredients into the bowl, she whisked them together quickly. It was assembled in a matter of minutes and she poured it over the cake in the most presentable way that she could manage. Standing back to admire her work, she had to admit that she did a pretty good job. 

Isabella stepped out of the kitchen to get herself some shoes from the by the front door and once she had slipped them one, she went back into the kitchen, sliced a generous piece, and plated it. She toyed with covering it with plastic wrap but then decided against it because it would mess with the glaze. Plate in one hand and keys in the other, she headed out the door and down the hall. She took a deep breath before timidly knocking on the door. A minute passed and there was no response. Isabella immediately assumed the worst because this was exactly what she had been afraid of. She looked like a fool standing outside of his door. Just as she was getting ready to and leave, annoyed for the uncomfortable situation that she had put herself into, the door swung open. 

“Twice in one day, huh?” 3E grinned down at her. Then his eyes swung down to the plate in her hand. “Is that the cake you promised me this morning?”

Isabella nodded and held the plate out to him. “I hope you like it.” He took the plate from her, then stepped back to open the door wider to let her in. He didn’t say anything as he walked back into his apartment but it was clear that she was meant to follow him. They ended up in the kitchen, with Edward digging into a drawer and pulling out a fork. He dug in pretty quickly as Isabella stood to the side, wringing her hands. It was at this moment that she realized that she hadn’t tried the cake herself. But judging the eager look on his face, it seemed to be pretty good. “I’m guessing it’s good…?”

3E nodded. “It’s fucking delicious and pretty unique. I don’t think I’ve had an orange juice based glaze before.” He had another bite and with his mouth full, he said, “My name’s Edward, by the way.” He paused to swallow. “Feel like we should know each other’s name since you’ve been in my apartment twice now.”

“I’m Isabella,” she laughed. It felt a little less awkward now and she appreciated that. Edward seemed to be a pretty easy going guy and obviously wasn’t trying to think too much of the situation. 

“So, just Isabella?” he asked as he licked off the spoon. “No nickname or anything? That’s so formal.”

Isabella shrugged. “It’s my given name so… Although my grandmother used to call me Belly. I would’ve hated it if I didn’t love her so much.” 

Edward wrinkled his nose and then laughed. “Yea, I think I’ll just stick to Isabella.” He paused to think for a moment. “Or, how about Bella?”

“So we’re giving each other nicknames now?” Isabella giggled. “I like Eddie for you.” Edward’s fork paused en route to his mouth and he shook his head violently. “Oh, looks like I hit a nerve with that one. Bad history?”

“Kids used to call me that in elementary,” Edward said, as he set down the plate in the sink, “and it wasn’t exactly a term of endearment.” He began washing off the plate, then dried it before handing it back to Isabella. “Thanks for that. It was really delicious.” She figured this was her cue and she turned to walk out of the kitchen and back towards the door, Edward following close behind. 

She shrugged as they made their way to the front of the apartment. “No biggie. Figured it was the least I could do for knocking on your door so early in the morning and—dammit! I got you a carton of orange juice as well but I forgot it back in my apartment.” Isabella smiled internally as she realized this accident was the perfect way to get to see Edward again.  
“We can go get it right now, if you don’t mind.”

Isabella smiled and nodded. But secretly, she felt weird about it. Him going back to her place was pretty damn forward, even if they were only going to get juice. Was he trying to prolong this interaction? Or did he just really want his juice? What if this was his way of trying to make a move? Edward paused by the door and slipped on some vans. They walked out of the door and down the hall. She felt as if she should say something but it was such a short trip, why bother?

She was growing increasingly nervous about whatever this situation was becoming and so she fumbled while unlocking her door. The keys slipped out of her hands and Edward bent down to pick them up for her. But as he was standing back up, his free hand slid up the back of her leg, skipped over her rump, and then rested in the small of her back as he handed the keys back to her. Isabella stiffened but this didn’t prompt him to move his hand. She hadn’t expected all of this—and definitely not so soon. Although her hands were still shaking, she managed to unlock the door this time and as she pushed the door open to let them in, his hands moved from her back to wrapping tightly around her waist.  
“It’s in the kitchen,” she managed to stammer out. His hands never strayed from her body as they made their way into the kitchen. They had barely made it two feet into the kitchen before Edward spun her and had her backing the counter. His hands gripped her waist and his lips went to her neck.

Isabella giggled as she grasped his face between her hands. “Edward! You broke character!” She kissed him, still laughing. This happened nearly every time they tried roleplaying. Since they lived down the hall from each other, they wanted to spice things up every once in a while, since they were able to see each other so often. But every single time, Edward broke character every time, the getting got good. He just couldn’t manage to control himself. 

Edward pulled back, resting his face in the crook of her neck. “I really tried this time, I promise!” He started peppering her neck with kisses. “I just can’t resist you sometimes.” He hiked her leg up around his hip and their lips fused once more. She let out a deep moan, quickly forgetting their roleplaying. She brought her other leg to rest on his hip before using her feet to try and toe off his sweatpants. They fell to his ankles and he stepped out of them as he began undoing the buttons on her shirt. He took his time, his fingers brushing the skin of her stomach as he went along. She quickly grew impatient with this so she finished the job herself, tugging the shirt off her arms as soon as the last button was done. 

At this very moment, she swore at the fact that she wore jeans. Edward sensed her urgency to be rid of her jeans and yanked them off. Naturally, like all skinny jeans do, they got caught at her ankles, only adding to her frustration. He pulled them the rest of the way off before taking of his own shirt. Soon, they were both standing in their underwear, chests heaving and eyes fiery. Isabella looped her leg around his waist once more and tugged him closer. Her fingernails scratched up and down his back lightly as leaned in to whisper, “I want—no, I need—you to take me on this counter…” 

She leaned back on her forearms, trying to play up the lust in her eyes. Edward growled as he tore off her panties in one swift moment. She sat up and began peppering kisses all over her chest, the hair there tickling her face in the most delicious way. Her hands floated down to where his boxers but he stilled her hands and pushed them down himself. Grabbing his member in his hand, he slowly stroked himself with one hand while using the other to push her to lay down flat on the counter. He guided himself to line up with her opening, rubbing against her slick folds. She let out a soft moan as he entered her. His strokes were slow and gentle as he kneaded her breasts before leaning down to take a nipple into his mouth. 

Normally, Isabella loved the soft lovemaking, but tonight she needed it rough. Her hands flew up to grip his hair and she used it as leverage to pull herself up. “Fuck me… Please.” He released her breast with a soft pop and opted for roughly grasping her hips. He slid out of her completely before violently entering her again in one swift movement—over and over. The only sounds filling the kitchen were the sounds of their slick skin slapping together and Isabella’s moans, which were now increasing in frequency. 

“Fuck… I need more.” He pulled away, slipping out of her in the process and causing her to sigh softly. “Turn around.” She arched her brow, a smirk appearing on her face, before turning over so that her stomach was pressed against the counter. She wiggled her bottom while tilting her face back towards him so that he could see her devilish grin. He was stroking himself gently as he watched her. Isabella decided to tease him some more by reaching her hands back to spread her ass cheeks. She knew how the movement would turn him on. Rightly so, because he then dug his fingernails into her ass, causing her to cry out with pleasure. 

He slammed into her once more and his movements caused her glide back and forth across the counter, the pain adding to her pleasure. One of his hands moved from her ass to wrap her hair tightly around his fist. Every so often as he pounded into her, he tugged her back by her hair causing her to gasp. Knowing she was close by the way her walls were tightening around him, he picked up the pace and reached down to rub her clit. Her mewls became more fervent and it was only moments when they both stilled, their orgasm rocking through them and their cries filling the air. 

Isabella was still panting as she felt Edward leave her. He leaned over, his stomach flat against her back. “You little minx,” he panted out with his breath ghosting over her neck, causing her to shiver. He knew how sensitive her skin after lovemaking which is exactly why he did it. 

She laughed. “Yea, yea, yea. Next time, stick to the script.”


End file.
